


send me away with the words of a love song

by oikawasthighs (floatingpastel)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Gen, M/M, Supernatural - Freeform, lots of cameos, the ghosts au nobody asked for, will tag characters as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 23:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5646454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingpastel/pseuds/oikawasthighs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa settles down on the ground, chin on top of his palm, and stares at the cloudy sky. He supposes it's his job now to orient Iwaizumi into his new life, being grave neighbors and all.</p><p>[ON HIATUS]</p>
            </blockquote>





	send me away with the words of a love song

It's a cold morning. Or, it looks like a cold morning. A thin blanket of clouds covers the flat expanse of the garden. Wind rustles the trees, leaves dropping from their branches. An early visitor nearby rubs her hands together, then lets out a foggy breath against her cupped digits. Oikawa breathes in the air but he doesn't feel it nor does he need to. He does anyway, vaguely recalling how nice the cool breeze must have felt on his lungs. He remembers how it felt to exercise on mornings like these, jogging for an hour or two and getting a pleasant burn on his muscles. He misses it.

There's a new guy today. Oikawa knows, even before he arrives. The staff has been busy all morning, setting up a large and open tent, then digging the empty grave next to his own.  They’ve put down chairs, set up flowers, and all that routine stuff. It's strangely methodical, he thinks, like they aren't about to bury someone's child, or someone's sibling, friend, girlfriend, boyfriend, or parent. They just got used to it, he reasons. He would have, too.

The guy is young, a teenager like Oikawa was, with black spikes for hair and eyes that looked like they must have smiled a lot. Even with the sullen, melancholic expression on it, he has a handsome face. Oikawa watches him arrive, or rather, appear out of the blue when his black hearse pulls over the sidewalk next to their adjacent graves. His family's car follows right behind. They step out of it looking down on the ground and looking like someone died. Oikawa snorts at the thought.

There's a middle aged couple with an uncanny resemblance to the boy with spiky hair. The man walks with his arm around the woman, who in turn sobs into a lacy black handkerchief. A girl that Oikawa estimates might be around ten holds his father's hand, glaring down at the ground. Obviously trying to be strong for the three of them, she grits her teeth with tears unshed from her eyes. Oikawa smiles sadly. He once knew and dearly loved a little boy like her, remembers how Takeru tried to keep his tears from falling when it was Oikawa's turn to go.

The rest of the funeral goers come. They hold the ceremony and say eulogies. They cry a lot, like the people who come here always do. More interested in watching the spiky haired boy react, Oikawa barely listens to any of it. He's heard these speeches so many times in this place he calls home now. The dearly departed will be missed, he was a good friend, brother, son, student, etcetera, etcetera. They say something about how he died and how abrupt and unexpected it was, and how it was such a waste. Oikawa clicks his tongue. He learns that  Spikes’ actual  name is Iwaizumi Hajime, and he was just about to graduate from high school this year when a drunk driver ran into him on his way home from cram school. Oikawa’s age then, when he died.

He notices that Iwaizumi looks like he's about to cry too, especially when it was his little sister's turn to speak. She has a piece of paper held in her shaking hands, stumbles a little over the words she wants to say about her brother. She almost cries, but she doesn’t, and Iwaizumi looks proud of her. Oikawa musters a smile again.

The others  are almost always boisterous, full of laughter and conversations and stories from their old lives. But today they are respectfully quiet, like they usually are when there’s a new arrival in town. Oikawa sits cross-legged on his grave, watching the ceremonies with a disinterested frown on his face.

It's going to be over soon. They're lowering the coffin into the ground and saying their last goodbyes. Flowers are thrown down onto it. Oikawa plays a simple game of trying to identify them, but gets bored after a minute. The staff shovels and flattens soil back into the dug up ground, leaving after they've done their job. A few people, including the boy's family, stay behind to watch.

Pressing his cheek on the palm supported by an elbow on his thigh, he spares a glance to Spikes standing beside him, eyes roaming over the black suit that he  is wearing , much like the one Oikawa is wearing. Everyone starts to leave. The usual white noise that Oikawa hears everyday from the other occupants of the cemetery returns and they talk, going back to their everyday chats. They have nothing else to do, anyway.

"Hey."

No response. Oikawa pouts, waits, watches. Iwaizumi stares straight ahead, drinking in the faces of everyone who attended the ceremony.

"Hey, Spikes."

Still no response. The life in his eyes present just moments ago vanishes slowly, and it doesn't look like he's registering Oikawa's presence, let alone his voice. Oh, well. He'll try again later.

The family stays until every last one of the sympathizers go, and then they get in their car as well. Oikawa entertains many thoughts, like the notion that maybe Iwaizumi wants to ride the car with his family and go back home, have dinner with them again. Say goodbye, maybe. He knows wishful things such as that were going through his own mind back then.

The young girl who he thinks might be  Iwaizumi’s little sister opens the car window to look back one last time. She waves at the new grave, something only a little kid would think to do. Iwaizumi startles, eyes going wide, and he raises his arm weakly.

"Goodbye..." He waves back at the moving car.

Oikawa wonders if he knows that they can't see or hear him, and he shrugs. Maybe he doesn't yet. It does take time for some people to come terms with the fact that they're dead, and that they're never going back to their life before.

Oikawa hears the others converse and laugh, but they don't try to talk to the new boy. Ghosts here know not to, because new spirits are unstable and easily shaken by anything. They wait, they watch. Oikawa settles down on the ground, chin  on top of his palm, and stares  at the cloudy sky. He supposes it's his job now to orient Iwaizumi into his new life, being grave neighbors and all. His free hand fidgets, running through the dancing grass being kissed by the cold wind. How nice it would be if he could feel it, too.

Iwaizumi Hajime’s ghost stands still and silent for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> talk to me!!! [**twitter**](https://twitter.com/youwatanabees)
> 
> a huge thank you to raine (@oshietooru at [**ao3**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicsleep) and [**twitter**](https://twitter.com/oshietooru) for beta-ing!!! she's such a sweet and amazing person i might cry,)
> 
> this is my first hq fic and surprise, it's fucking iwaoi. i havent written in a long time and it figures i'll write fucking iwaoi, dear lord. the hq fandom means so much to me and this is hopefully just the first of many pieces that i will contribute! i hope you liked it. more soon, hopefully!


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